Scorpius's Ship
by flamingphoenixfire
Summary: Scorpius has money. He has power. He has an insane amount of sarcasm, but the one thing he doesn't have is a reason--a reason to wake up, a reason to keep going to Hogwarts, a reason to live. Will his ship come in, or will he drown in misery?
1. The Acquaintanceship

I hate my life. I hate everything about myself right down to my ridiculous name, Scorpius. What kind of name is that to give a child? The kind that will get them bullied in the school yard, that's what kind. It's not that my parents haven't tried, but they certainly wouldn't win the World's Most Affectionate Parents award. Which is why instead of hugging and kissing me goodbye, they are just standing here looking at me as though they can't wait to apparate home. My father keeps looking around at all the other families, like he's checking for any outward signs of contagious diseases, and other than nodding at Harry Potter a little further down the platform like he's done for the last two years, Dad hasn't acknowledged anyone else's existence. I guess it's fruitless to keep holding out for a tearful goodbye. Guess I should just get on the train.

"Bye, Mum. Bye, Dad," I mutter.

"Good bye, son. Remember the advice I gave you," Says Dad.

Yeah, about that advice—'Only make friends with other Slytherins, don't get detention, and above all stay away from the Potters and Weasleys—what sort of rubbish advice is that? The few –Slytherin- friends of my dad's that have come by our place have creeped me out, and their kids aren't any better. From my first encounter with their 'group', I became known as the punching bag. Actually, torture victim would be more accurate. I mean these guys are twisted. I think I've suffered enough humiliation in my life, but Dad expects me to endure it for the remainder of my childhood.

I heave my trunk onto the train, envious of other people whose families and friends bother to, you know, help them. Books alone weight about a zillion kilograms for my year, and there's more than books in my trunk. After all, I couldn't leave behind my collection of Armani shoes.

Once safely inside the train, the search for an unoccupied compartment begins. I pass one without slowing down. I wouldn't even dream of going into that compartment! Nott, Goyle, and McNair are just a few of those whose main goal in life is to witness my painful, prolonged death. It's bad enough sharing a dorm room with them; I'm certainly not sharing the train ride as well. Moving on, I finally see a compartment at the end of the train that isn't taken. I shove my trunk up into the rack, and settle down to wait for the trip to begin.

Shortly after the train starts to move, I hear voices outside the compartment, and somebody shoves the door open.

"Hello. Do you mind if we sit here? Everywhere else is full," breathes a girl, ducking her head through the door and grinning at me. She's stunningly pretty, and I'm completely gutted just looking at her.—How could I possibly?

"Uh…su-sure—I mean no, not at all," I reply and think to myself, 'What an idiot! Great line, Scor; way to impress the lady.'

I watch her wiggle in and sit down across from me, and I barely register Albus Potter drag in behind her and stow both their trunks in the rack. The black-haired boy has the nerve to sit next to her, and they both start chatting pleasantly. Did I ever mention how much I hate black hair? Now red hair, especially _beautiful_ red hair, like hers—what's not to like? Maybe I should interrupt them, introduce myself or something. Oh! She's looking at me.

"My name's Lily, by the way," she says, "You're Scorpius, right?" Ugh, she knows—so much for making up a better name.

"Uh…yeah, but you can…uh…call me Scor. It's shorter." It's shorter! Have I gone completely barking? Who in his right mind would say that? Other than pointing out the obvious, it's far from smooth. But then she smiles again, and I completely melt. Can I be blamed for losing my senses over this girl?

"Scor, you know Albus?" she asks, jerking her thumb at Potter.

"Al," he reminds her sheepishly. 'Al,' I think: 'It's shorter.' Ha! Not that I have anything in common with Potter, mind.

"Right, sorry Al." Why does she have to smile at _him? _In a perfect universe she would reserve those smiles for me.

"Yeah, we've met," I say, trying to direct her attention back to me, but then Potter says something inane and she turns back to him. I growl inwardly. Those Potters must lead a charmed life. It seems pretty obvious that he knows her already, but I've never seen her before. She has to be a first year. So how did _he_ get to be so close to her before anyone else? It must be that 'Savior of the Wizarding World' rubbish again.

I slide down in my seat, so she'll think I'm brooding and mysterious, but then I realize I have no idea what to do with my hands. It's amazing how much they get in the way. I realize that I should say something quick before she thinks I'm incapable of speech.

Topic, topic, topic… "So what house are you in…I mean going to be in…I mean which house would you like to be in?" That—was—so—cool. Ugh. Now I'm probably ranked with the mentally incapacitated in her book.

"Well…" There's that smile again. I think my heart might stop beating if she keeps doing that. "Gryffindor would be nice…but Ravenclaw is good, too. I don't know. I guess it wouldn't matter to me, really."

"Anything's better than Slytherin. Slytherin would be just awful," says the Potter brat. Yeah and he just _has _to look right at me when he say it, too. Git is determined to have this girl see me in the worst light. I mean I didn't _ask_ to be sorted to Slytherin. He probably just wants me out of the picture so he can have the new girl to himself.

As so far my attempts at speech have been complete bollocks, I decide to shut up and avoid further humiliation. Instead, I content myself with stealing glances at Lily when I'm sure she's not looking. Well, okay, I'm not _sure _every time. And she's way too perceptive. Great, she's caught me at it again. But instead of saying something embarrassing, she just smiles a little and goes back to staring out the window.

It seems like forever until the train finally decides to slow down and stop at the station, but for once I don't mind. As we get our things together to deboard, I manage to beat Potter in asking Lily if she'd like me to carry her owl. Oddly Potter doesn't seem near as put out about it as I would have liked.

"First years! First years over 'ere." Hagrid is another recipient of her smiles, I see, but I sure wasn't expecting her to run up and throw herself at him like that!

"Why little Lily Potter! I can' believe how much you've grown," he rumbles, catching her up in his massive arms.

Lily Potter?Did he just say Lily _Potter? _My insides turn to glue, and for a minute I just can't move.I should have known. Here I am, standing here holding this bird cage for _Lily Potter._ I feel like the biggest idiot ever born. Of course she's Lily Potter. Didn't her Mum have ginger hair? _Weasley _hair? There's no way she'll ever look twice at me. I mean c'mon. I'm a Malfoy which translates into Deatheater for the 'Savior of the Wizarding World Society.' I might as well just kiss her goodbye. No, probably not with the kissing: I would definitely enjoy that too much.

"Um…here's your owl," I mutter as she starts to walk away with the rest of the first years toward the boats docked in the distance.

"Oh…" Maybe if she smiles at me a few more times like that my heart might just burst and spare me from committing suicide. "Thanks Scor. I'll see you at the feast, yeah?"

"Uh…yeah, sure." Yes, I think. I'll be the one with my face buried in the shepherd's pie bemoaning my lineage.

I manage to fill the carriage ride to the castle with wondering about which house Lily will be in. Of course it would be torture seeing her sorted into Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw, but in any case, she'll be at Hogwarts. At least I'll be able to see her. I've never felt so edgy before a sorting, even my own. I mean there wasn't much to wonder about there. I was pretty sure the hat wouldn't get much further than my surname before chucking me in Slytherin, and I wasn't far off. _Slytherin holds your salvation. _What rot.

That night at the feast, I look down the row of tables and there she is. How does she manage to seem so calm? Her confidence practically radiates from her.

Ugh, it's taking forever. Why do they have to sort in alphabetical order? I mean couldn't they just skip to the important part? No—instead they insist on sorting Ainsley, Jeff and Azzerkoff, Sven and so on until I nearly pass out from holding my breath. Finally, after I almost turn blue through the unusually large amount of first years with last names starting with 'P', they say the name I'm dying to hear: Potter, Lily. That old, ragged, burned hat never looked so good on anyone, not even Gryffindor himself, I'm sure. I wish I could hear what it is saying to her. Is it telling her how smart she is, or how brave? Is it telling her how loyal she is or…

"_Slytherin!" _What? I must be taking this daydreaming thing a little too far. Now I'm starting to hallucinate. I watch the teacher pick up the hat, but instead of the smile that was there before, Lily now wears a sad, frightened expression.

Part of me wants to comfort that expression right off her face. But the other part of me is too excited. I can't believe it! She's really coming to this table! Oh, please sit by me, I beg silently. Please God, I'll denounce my house, my name, just please let her sit here. I can't believe the hat put her in Slytherin. Not that I'm complaining. I just don't see how someone so beautiful and happy can belong here in the snake's den. Someone up there must love me, because instead of heading to the end of the table where it is less crowded, she sits right across from me.

"I guess you were right, eh?" I say hoping to cheer her up a bit.

"About what?" I love the way her brow crinkles when she's confused.

"You said you would see me at the feast, and here you are." She laughs! She actually laughs. Is there a chance…could she ever _like_ me? I hear the sorting hat continue to place first years in the various houses, but I don't care anymore. I'm in the same house as Lily. I made Lily laugh. The world is good. Though, wouldn't you know it, at my happiest moment, James Potter would have to come over and intrude.

"You okay, Lils?" James asks, every inch the considerate big brother. Wanker. Potter's lucky, though—I wish _I _could put my arm around her shoulders like that.

"I'm fine, Scor's cheering me up." _Zing! _Whoa there, Potter, no fair trying to murder me with your eyes like that.

"Lily, he's a Malfoy," James reminds her, as if that weren't bloody obvious. Did I forget to mention that? Well, so much for hope.

"So, he's a nice Malfoy." What? What's that she said? Did she just use the words 'Malfoy' and 'nice' in the same sentence?

"He's a Dea…" James starts in.

"He is not! His father might have been, but look,"—Did I just imagine it, or did Lily Potter just reach over, grab my arm, and shove my shirt sleeve up to my elbow? This has to be the most surreal experience I have ever had!—"See! Nothing!"

Okay, I'm not sure I can take much more of this running her hand up my arm stuff.

"Not a mark!" she repeats, and then leaves off fondling my arm. Whew, that would have been embarrassing in a few more seconds. "Not everyone is just like their dad!"

Ouch! Big brother doesn't look too happy now. Uh huh…a-a-a-and…neither do the rest of the happy Gryffindor family.

"You okay?" I lean over to ask, once James slinks off to fume with the other Gryffindors. I mentally punch myself for asking something so obvious.

"Sure," she says. Well that's an obvious lie, but I suddenly have an overwhelming urge to make her. Okay, that is. Sitting there at the Slytherin table, watching the Gryffindors whisper and do all but point at Lily, I swear to myself that I'll make it all okay. For her. I mean, she stood up for me to her overbearing big brother. I owe her one. Who would have though that a Potter would ever stick up for me?

_Malfoy, I think to myself, your ship has just come in!_


	2. The Fellowship

I have decided that school is a punishment parents inflict on their children for having the audacity to be born. For instance, why does the school day always begin at ridiculous o'clock? To remind us of the torture our parents suffered with 3 o'clock feedings. Why do the chairs and benches we sit on feel as though they are made of steel? It's payment for causing our Mums' bottoms to go numb while rocking on those wooden gliders just to get us to drift off to sleep. Why do we have to listen to professors drone on and on about the most incredibly dull subjects imaginable? Retribution for making our parents endure those sodding lullabies instead of enjoying the tunes of the Weird Sisters or Melting Cauldron.

Of course, understanding that in some horrible karmic way I deserve it all doesn't ease my suffering.

You would think after putting up with this torture for the past two years, I would be reluctant to drag myself out of bed. Not so today. I don't need to have _Aguamenti _cast on me to get me to leap out of bed. I don't need a cup of sugar with tea to force my eyes to stay open. I don't even need a Cheering Charm to put a smile on my face. I have something far better. In case you're wondering what wonderful new caffeinated beverage I've managed to invent, I'll spare you the patent war: It's the girl that just walked into the Great Hall for breakfast and sat down next to _me! _

"Morning, Scor," slurs Lily. Definitely not a morning person, I can tell, but neither am I usually.

"Morning, Lo…Lily." Did I almost call her 'love'? Come on Malfoy, get a grip! It's a little early for terms of endearment.

"Do you know, I think making us get up so early is some form of punishment?," she mumbles, tucking into some bacon and eggs. I wonder, do you think we could be soul-mates?

"I couldn't agree more," I say.

"You seem awfully chipper," she accuses, sliding a glace from beneath a lock of ginger hair that's fallen over her brow. "Don't tell me you're a morning person. I can't abide happiness this early in the morning."

"Who me?—I'm the one who perfected the art of making it to the Great Hall with my eyes closed," I inform her. Mental note: Become a comedian, because her sudden rueful smile lights up the whole bleeding room.

I think I would enjoy this moment more if the prats that are my roommates would stop looking at me as though I had Devil's Snare growing out of my head. What is with those blokes? Don't they have anything better to do? Well, at least Lily doesn't seem to notice anything—anything other than _me _that is, and that's just fine.

She nibbles the edges of her muffin and settles into the hard bench, obviously coming to terms with the morningness of it all. I pretend to eat, but really I'm just sneaking glances at Lily. I hear Professor Longbottom moving down the aisle and papers rustling. In the background, students groan and/or chitter excitedly.

"Looks like I have Transfiguration first," Lily says looking at the schedule Professor Longbottom just handed her. "Don't suppose you could point me in the right direction?"

"I'll do better than that. I'll escort you there, personally," I offer.

"I wouldn't want you to be late to _your _class," she says, but it isn't a refusal.

"I know a few shortcuts," I assure her, and besides I'd rather be chewed out by Professor Parkinson than let any other bloke have the honor of walking her to class.

"Thanks," she grins, pushing that errant lock of hair out of the way. I think it might be possible to live on smiles.

"Well, I can't let a fellow Slytherin get lost on her way to class now can I?" I say. Where did that come from? Is cheesy gallantry outdated? I can't remember.

"Then let us depart, dear Sir, for who knows what troubles we may encounter on our journey to the Transfiguration corridor." Guess not or maybe she just has a great sense of humor—either way it's time to turn on the charm.

In retrospect, it may have been a bit over the top to offer her my arm like that, and I might should have dispensed with the stately walk. Nothing—however—will make me regret bending over her hand and kissing it even if it was the corniest thing ever. Seeing the color creep into her cheeks more than repaid me for whatever humiliation I might suffer.

"Well, hello there, Sir Scorpion." Maybe not.

Dropping into an empty chair in the dark dungeon room, I turn to face my fellow Slytherin.

"Nott," I reply, making it plain I have other things to do than talk to him.

"Quite the ladies' man this year, aren't you? Term has barely started and you've already picked yourself a winner. Well, according to _some _anyway," Nott sneers.

"If you're saying what I think you're saying you'd better think of _un_saying it, real quick!" I threaten darkly. Why do I have to endure these pillocks?

"Malfoy, do you really think I'm scared of you?" Nott says. Maybe? Let's see if I can get Dad's smirk down this time.

"You should be," I growl, but Nott doesn't seem particularly intimidated.

"Perhaps a midnight rendezvous is in order," he suggests. Great—another thrashing—just what I needed my first day back.

"Don't show up unless you're prepared to go whimpering to Madam Abbott," I say. Well, for once, I don't have a problem with the comebacks. I just hope I don't get myself killed.

"The unused classroom. You know where." He turns and scuttles off like the vermine he is. Yeah, run off and plan the torture with your little friends, I tell him silently. But despite the fact that I'm acting calm about this, inside I'm coming to terms with my imminent demise. I really hope the barmy git that said 'love conquers all' wasn't joking.

Professor Binns has to be the best sedative ever invented. Good thing I have the perfect counter-agent. Who would have thought writing the same name over and over could be so stimulating? Of course it helps to have a true artist's eye—after all, embellishment is my middle name. Not really, but don't tell my parents. They might decide to tack it on. They would probably think Embellishment went really well with Hyperion.

Next, I have to endure DADA. Harry Potter is supposed to give a guest lecture today. I'm not really looking forward to that. Why, you ask? Well, what bloke wants to 'meet the parents' this soon? I mean I haven't even gotten past the 'you're the hottest thing I've ever seen' stage. No, that's not true. Lily is more than just a looker. I'm still not anticipating DADA, though.

Oh joy! It gets worse. Slytherin has DADA with the Gryffindors this year. Lovely, now I have to deal with father _and _brother, and brother doesn't look very sporting. There's no chance in the world that Al's talking to his dad about Quidditch. Yes, the look confirms it. I'm officially a dead man.

Maybe if I sit far enough away they'll forget I'm here. But then Al slides in next to me. Guess not. Now why would 'Perfect Potter' choose the seat next to the 'Malicious Malfoy'?

"Today we're going to practice the shield charm," intones Prof Potter from the front of the room. He's playing this hero thing a little too broad, I think. "Pair up and take turns using the shield charm and trying to break through it."

Ahhh, I realize as we get sorted into pairs, it all becomes clear. Potter's going to slam me into the wall.

"Ready, Malfoy?" he asks. Um, could you give me a few hundred more years?

"Whenever you are, Potter," I say aloud. Inside I think, 'Come on, shield charm, shield charm—I can do this.'

"_Expelliarmus!"_

"_Protego!"_

Ah, there's another parent punishment I forgot, floors made of stone. Hmmm, what could that be a punishment for?

"Not quite fast enough there, Malfoy," Al points out. You think? Could that possibly be why _I'm _lying on the floor instead of _you? _"Try again?"

"Sure," I say. Nothing to lose except the very little pride I have left.

"_Expelliarmus!"_

"_Protego!" _Okay, how did Potter learn to cast a disarming charm that can throw a bloke across the room?

"Are you damaged?" he asks oh-so-solicitously. Oh, you wish, Potter.

"I'm fine," I mumble.

"Again?"

"Yes." I'm a glutton for punishment.

Someone should lodge a complaint with castle designers. I mean, you would think they could at least put a Cushioning Charm on those floors. I think I may have one giant bruise covering my entire left side, and I'm not sure I didn't break a rib. Stupid Potter. Well, at least I finally managed to block one of his ridiculous spells—only one, though.

"Hey, Scor. Wow! You look as if you were run over by a lorry," says Lily, sliding onto the bench beside me. I love lunchtime. I love red-heads whose smiles take all the hurt away.

"What's a Lori?" It doesn't sound very dangerous.

"It's a big truck...like the Knight Bus, only bigger," she explains. She has a wealth of muggle knowledge, but she doesn't use it to make other people feel stupid.

"Ah, well, you might be closer than you think," I groan. I certainly did spend a great deal of time on hard stone. She casts me a look of sympathy that I swear heals the worst of the bruises.

"I've already got so much homework," she says, changing the subject. And the girl is tactful, too! "I may be up all night."

I take a look at her assignment list and shake my head. "It shouldn't be too hard."

"You're probably right. Brice Zabini and I are going to study together, so we should get done pretty quickly." I hate the Zabinis. I especially hate that little twit Brice.

"Well, if you need any help, just let me know," I say. I wonder if I could lock Zabini in the broom cupboard after dinner.

"Thanks, Scor," she breathes, all of four inches away from me. Time just stopped. Did you feel it? Lily just squeezed my hand and time stopped! I wonder if it would be too soon to ask her to marry me. I know I would be much better at thinking of children's names than my dad. Of course, I may not be alive after my meeting with Nott tonight, and nobody wants to be a widow.

"Hey, Lily. We still on for tonight?" Brice Zabini smiles, breezing past us. Ugh, I think he's wearing cologne or something equally repellent.

"Sure!" Lily replies brightly, dropping my hand. Have I mentioned that I hate that prat, Zabini?

"Okay, meet you in the common room after dinner, then," says the Prat.

"Okay, see ya," she says, giving him a little wave of her hand. Let's see I could put Devil's Snare next to his bed, I could jinx his broom—wait he's a first year, he's not allowed a broom—I could introduce him to Grawp! Or…why do none of these ideas seem painful enough?

"Scor?" Ah, Lily's hand has returned: what a soothing calm for the savage breast.

"Yes?"

"You, okay? Your face is turning all red."

"Is it? Must be the heat," I mumble. The heat…or the molten fire of jealousy coursing through my veins. I feel the insane desire to hit something, preferably Zabini.

"Really, hot? I thought it was a bit nippy." It's time for a quick getaway.

"I'd better go," I say, standing up and swinging a leg over the bench. "I have to…talk to Professor Longbottom before class." Oh, please! Like she's going to believe _that!_

"Okay, see you at dinner."

Well, I thought about it and thought about it, but I couldn't come up with a way of damaging Zabini aside from hitting him over the head with the bust of Professor Snape. I figured that might be a little too obvious.

Instead, I am sitting here about ready to tear something to shreds watching that prat make up to _my _Lily. You might be objecting to me using the word _my_, but if you could only fathom the depth of my feelings you would give me leave this once. Let's just assume you have. _My _Lily is sitting over there head to head with that mental sodding git! _My _Lily is laughing at his bloody jokes. _My _Lily is finally closing her books and getting up!

It's about time. She glides over to me, obviously relieved to be through with her schoolwork. Her smile is luminous.

"Hey, Scor. You done with your work yet?" Work?—is that what I was supposed to be doing? And by asking, does she mean that she'd like me to be doing something else?

"Just finishing," I say, hastily slamming my giant book shut and crushing a sheaf of parchments inside.

"You must really hate trolls," She says, at once taking in the cover of the book and the mangled papers sticking out. You have no idea, I think. The definition for troll of course being Brice Zabini.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, you scribbled on your troll essay here until you wore a hole in the paper," She says, touching a corner of the parchment. Hmmm, imagine that—I wonder why that is. Could I have been just a little bit distracted?

"I didn't like that particular paragraph. I'm going to write it over."

"Oh. Well, I'm off to bed. See you tomorrow." She hugs her books and turns for the girls' dorm. I watch her backside until she disappears through the arched doorway.

"Yeah…tomorrow." I've never realized how distracting the word 'bed' can be.

Where is that prat, Nott? Here I am in the middle of a deserted classroom waiting to defend Lily's honor (and hopefully myself), and he has the nerve to keep me waiting.

"Here I am, Malfoy." I turn to see Nott's smirking form in the doorway. "Took a bit of maneuvering to get past Sneed."

"Excuses, excuses," I mutter, drawing my wand.

Nott swallows visibly at the sight of my wand, but he doesn't drop a beat. "Right, well let's get on with it." He arms himself.

"I'm ready," I say, dropping my voice and focusing as best I can. Yeah, I'm ready to be blasted against the wall.

"_Locomotor Mortis!" _Nott yells two seconds before I shout,_"Tarantallegra!" _I really hate this curse. Bouncing around like an idiot with my legs locked together is not really my style.

"_Expelliarmus!" _

"_Protego!" _Still not fast enough—I manage to hold on to my wand, but still end up on my bum. Hello stone floor.

"Your lady fair sure didn't pick a very competent _knight._ Perhaps I should show her a good time myself. I wouldn't mind getting a taste of her." Nott is slime, pure and utter slime. Several unmentionable curses flash through my mind.

"_Densaugeo, __Furnunculus, __Silencio!" _Okay, so I'm a little bit angry—angry enough to cause Nott there a fair amount of trouble. He looks green in the face now, which brings me loads of joy.

I manage to pry my legs apart after a quick,_"Finite incantatum," _but I can't seem to put an end to my ire as quickly.He's just disgusting. Only a sick barmy prat like him would say something like that.

"If you ever go anywhere _near _Lily Potter, I will feed you to a dragon _in pieces!" _Punctuating my words with my wand tip in his face like that was a brilliant move on my part, I think.

I've made my point. Not exactly the perfect end to the perfect day, but at least I lived through it—for once I'm actually glad.


	3. The Battleship

The Ministry of Magic should punish those who force young children to clean anything without the aid of magic. I think a life term in Azkaban would be appropriate. I mean, instead of just inventing a perpetual self-cleaning charm or something equally as useful, the professors (and Sneed, the slimy git they call caretaker) traumatize students by forcing them to clean things that will only be dirty again the following day! It's demoralizing. Professors must enjoy reminding their captives of the futility of life.

These sorts of thoughts just naturally flow through my head when I am on my knees scrubbing the stone floor in the Entrance Hall—with a toothbrush. I never realized how much dirt falls between the cracks in flagstone floors.

Nott couldn't be satisfied with dragging me out of bed or causing me to lose my temper. He decided to punish me further by ratting me out to Professor Parkinson. Who would have thought being ditched by my dad would make her so bitter?

I hear the clompity clomp of hundreds of little feet and pause momentarily in my scrubbing. It must be dinner time already.

"Look, mates, it's Sir Scrubs-a-lot," Nott's grating voice echoes across the hall. I should have cursed his mouth shut. "Brushing up on your domestic skills for your upcoming marriage, _Scor?" _I can feel my face getting hot as laughter rings in my ears. Can't someone shut him up?

_Crack!_

I look around to see where the noise came from. Everyone else has the same idea, apparently.

"Buddy nell!" Everyone turns around to look at Nott, and I notice at once that he's right. Literally. Blood streams down his face as he holds his no-longer-straight nose.

"Someone bloodied his nose!" Nott's mate yells. A regular genius, that one.

"Who did it?" a Hufflepuff calls out.

"I don't know. There are too many people in here," another Slytherin answers looking around the crowd. I see a flash of ginger hair heading away from the group of angry Slytherins. Could Lily have hit him? I barely resist the urge to laugh.

"Take Mr. Nott to the hospital wing," Professor Longbottom says, scuttling into the Hall and pointing at Avery. "Mr. Malfoy, you can finish the rest of this tomorrow. The rest of you go in to dinner." Feet begin to shuffle as students flow into the Great Hall. I put away the toothbrush and water bucket and join the throng. Lily smiles at me when I join her at our usual place at the end of the Slytherin table.

"Nice right hook," I whisper. She looks over in surprise and I can't help but smile.

"Thanks. Having older brothers is useful for something after all," she whispers back and winks at me. It may be too soon in our relationship to propose marriage, but I wonder if it is too soon to ask her to be my girlfriend. I mean, having a girlfriend who can bloody the noses of your enemies would be a great advantage.

Now…how to ask her? _Lily, you are the most intelligent, beautiful, and daring girl I have ever met. Will you be my girlfriend? _No, it's too over-the-top. _Hey, Lils, how would you like to date the hottest bloke at Hogwarts? _Absolutely not! That's way too egotistical. _Um, Lily, I was wondering if…_

"…you'd be my girlfriend." Did I just say that out loud? Oh, no! It's Zabini again! Where did he come from?

"Of course I will, Brice," Lily says with a smile. What! Did that just happen? Someone tell me I'm dreaming, or better yet, tell me I'm just having the worst nightmare of my entire life.

I feel myself go numb as Brice sits down next to _my _Lily and puts his arm around her. I wonder what the sentence for murder is—life in Azkaban? Food appears in front of me just about the time I feel like retching. Why do they insist on feeding you when you have no desire to eat? Sausage and mash, normally my favorite, swims before me making me even more nauseous. My legs feel like blocks of granite as I swing them over the bench and get up to leave.

"Scor, where are you off to? You haven't eaten," Lily's smile just cuts more deeply than if she had ignored me and let me go.

"I've…got some…studying to do. I'll see you later." I race out of the hall before she can see what must be the most desperate look in all wizarding history.

Two seconds…that swot Zabini beat me by two seconds. Who knows what sort of battles I'll have to go through to win my chance back because I _will _win her.

#

* * *

It's hopeless! Lily will never be mine. It's been three days now and she's still with that prat Zabini every time I catch sight of her. I mean, shouldn't they have had a 'lover's quarrel' by now? That would be the perfect opportunity for me to comfort her. Maybe I've been reading too many _Spellbound _romances. I don't even know why I bother going into the common room to study anymore. Last night, I ended up ripping my essay for Professor Parkinson into tiny pieces while I watched Zabini practically sit on Lily's lap he was so close to her.

I drag myself to my favorite armchair noticing that the 'love birds' haven't shown up yet. Maybe I have time to settle down and enjoy the blissful silence. I pull out my potions tome and try my hardest to concentrate on the key ingredients to cleaning potions.

"And Avery said he saw you looking at Patrick Pucey's bum!" Zabini yells as he marches into the common room behind a red-faced Lily. Who ever said 'silence was golden' obviously hadn't been presented with this 'golden opportunity'.

I watch Lily spin around to face her attacker.

"And you believe _him _over _me_?" Lily looks so beautiful when she's angry, but enough about that…now's my chance. I close my book, not even caring that I've lost my place.

"Avery never said an honest thing in his life," I insert defensively and watch Lily turn to me with gratitude written all over her face.

"See! Scor doesn't believe him. Why do you?" Lily sounds like she's close to tears, which makes me even more furious.

"_Scor _would believe anything you say! He practically drools all over you every time he sees you. You probably snog him as well!" the prat snarls half at me and half at Lily.

"Well, if you can't trust me then I don't see any reason why I should continue to be your girlfriend," Lily hurls back at him.

"Fine!"

"Fine!" I watch with barely concealed glee as Zabini spins around and stomps to the common room door, but instead of leaving like I had hoped he would, he turns back for one last parting shot.

"I hope you like snogging Deatheaters!" he spits, and with that he turns and stomps away down the dungeon corridor.

Lily stands there staring at the door like a lost kitten. She finally turns and walks over to sit across from me.

"Sorry about that," she whispers.

"About what?"

"What he said about you." She looks up and brightens my life with another beautiful smile. "You must have to deal with that sort of thing all the time, too, what with your dad being…"

I watch her blush and lower her eyes. If anybody ever could understand what it's like to live in the shadow of your father, it'd be her.

"Everyone expects me to be just like him," I say. "I look so much like him. I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"No, they treat me the same way, and I look nothing like my father," she pulls at a strand of her auburn hair. "Well, maybe not _'nothing like', _but just because I'm Harry Potter's daughter doesn't mean that I am some super-wizard." The look she gives me begs me to understand, and I do, of course. She's no more Harry Potter than I am Draco Malfoy. We are their children not their clones.

"Wonder what it would be like to have a normal life?" I say and my heart skips a beat when she laughs.

"Thank-you, Scor. You're the only one around here who understands."

"That's what mates are for, right?" I wonder if she catches the innuendo here. I mean I'm glad to be mates, but I would love to be best-mates or something even better.

"Right," she smiles and squeezes my hand. I think I might have come out victorious in this battle after all.

#

* * *

Okay, it's been five days and I still haven't managed to ask Lily to be my girlfriend. Every time I start to say the words, I imagine her saying something like, 'Why would I want to date a _Malfoy?' _It's gotten so bad that I've been having nightmares of Lily turning me down in front of the whole student body.

I decided yesterday that I would meet her after class and ask her no matter who is listening. So, here I am making my way down the Transfiguration corridor to make my dreams come true (dreams, not nightmares). As I get closer, someone starts laughing and then others join in. I push closer trying to see what the joke is about. I can't believe it! Several girls laugh and point—at Lily! She tries to push through the crowd as tears stream down her cheeks. Blood runs down her legs as she pushes a burly sixth year aside. Nott, Avery, and Pucey bar her way.

"Potter's got her monthly!" Nott yells out and then doubles over laughing.

"No wonder she dumped me," Zabini chimes in from behind Pucey. "Must have been PMS." The others laugh even harder—stupid pillocks.

"_Stupefy," _I yell pointing my wand at the wall of egotism in front of Lily. Avery and Pucey fall to the floor allowing Lily to run into a nearby loo.

Nott and Zabini pull out their wands but Professor Longbottom beats them to it.

"Nott! Zabini! Put those away, now!" I never realized Professor Longbottom could be so intimidating. "Malfoy, come with me."

"But Professor, they…" I try to defend myself.

"Not another word. Go to my office at once! You two take Mr. Avery and Mr. Pucey to the hospital wing." Professor Longbottom points to two seventh year blokes who levitate the stunned gits and walk off grumbling about stupid third years.

I guess there's nothing for it but to do as I was told, so I head off in the direction of Professor Longbottom's office. I hope that Lily is alright. I hear Professor Longbottom giving Zabini and Nott detention and I inwardly cheer. I hope they have to clean the dungeon floors with a toothbrush—preferably theirs.

And here I am at Professor Longbottom's office. I push the door open and sit in one of the chairs in front of the desk. His office reminds me of the greenhouses. Potted plants cover every available surface. It's a good thing his office has so many windows. Professor Longbottom comes in grumbling under his breath, and I focus my attention on the torture at hand. What sort of cleaning project will I have to endure this time?

"Mr. Malfoy, I applaud what you did back there," the Professor begins his sentence…Wait! Did he just say what I think he said?

"Sir?" I ask, wondering if I ought to ask him to repeat himself.

"You saved Lily Potter from further humiliation and for that you should be commended," he says. Perhaps he doesn't realize who he is speaking to. Professor Longbottom has never been exactly _cruel _to me, but he's never praised me for anything either.

"Thank-you, Sir," I mumble.

"I will have to give you detention for using magic in the corridors, however," he goes on, and I can definitely detect a note of regret there. Well, there it is: I knew I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up.

"Yes Sir," I say, waiting to discover which floor I will be scrubbing next.

"I think writing lines in my office this evening should be sufficient," he says with a smile. He's letting me off easy. I return the smile and get up to leave.

"Thank-you, Professor."

He waves me off and I step into the hall only to come face to face with the Potter boys. What now? Don't I get any peace?

"We heard what you did," Al starts in. I wonder whose version of the events he got.

James sticks out his hand, and I flinch. I mean come on—I just had a duel in the hall. I'm a little on edge.

I take the hand and shake it, hoping he won't pull a wand on me.

"Thanks," he says. Al holds out his hand in turn, and I wonder if this might be the start of that peace I have been hoping for.


	4. The Scholarship

I don't understand girls

I don't understand girls. This might come from having a mum who I've had a total of nine meaningful conversations with, and two of those centered on why my Dad is the biggest prat in the world. Dad isn't any help either. He never had sisters. He never had any girl cousins. I think he met mum through a mail order witch service. Because of all this beneficial experience, I have managed to say the wrong thing to Lily every time I've been around her this week.

I thought I had it figured out on Thursday. I mean, who would have guessed that asking, 'How are you?' would cause a bloke to get the Bat-bogey hex? I've just about decided to give up, which is why the breakfast I'm pondering now looks anything but appetizing. I look up from my runny eggs and undercooked bacon and see the subject of my thoughts skip into the hall—yes, I did say skip. I can't help but wonder whether this is actually an improvement.

"Good-morning, Scor," she says with a smile that nearly blinds me. I'm not a morning person, remember?

"Good…morning…Lily?" I wonder if she's thinking up a reason to hex me.

"Are you busy this Saturday?" She gives me the puppy dog eyes, and I try not to melt. Focus, focus, this might be a test.

"Um…did you need anything?" I ask. I need to work on getting the quiver out of my voice. Be a man, Scor!

"Yes, I was hoping you would help me with my flying," she chirps. Okay, that's just too many smiles. I can't hold out.

"Of course I will. I'd love to." Oh! I laid it on way too thick there! Good thing her only reaction is a bit of a reddish tint to her cheeks.

We finish our meal in silence. The eggs and bacon have improved a bit. Somebody must have sent them back down to the house elves when I wasn't looking. I'm grateful that I seem to have done something that didn't get me hexed or yelled at. I'll have to remember to ask Potter about that. He has plenty of girl cousins, and Lily is his sister, after all.

Yes, it's true, I'm actually on speaking terms with Potter. It's really not that bad. I mean, at least Potter doesn't try to hex me every time my back is turned, which is what friendship with my Slytherin roommates would entail. In fact, since the 'incident' in the halls with Lily, Al has been rather friendly in the classes we have together. Why just last week in DADA, he only stunned me three times instead of thirteen. It seems like I've become rather popular with the Potter group, actually. Rose hasn't laughed at me for getting a 'T' in potions this week. James actually said my broom handled pretty well for a Nimbus, and Fred (or was it George? I never can tell,) actually gave me the other half of the Nosebleed Nougat so I wouldn't pass out from blood loss. The only one who refuses to see that I'm actually a really awesome bloke is that whiner, Hugo. Potter says it's just something about Lily being his favorite cousin or some such rot. Who can fathom the mind of a Weasley?

As I head to my first class of the day, I can't help but anticipate flying with Lily. Aside from the fact that I actually do enjoy flying more than any other activity here at Hogwarts, I just can't wait to be on the same broom with Lily. Before you ask, no it is not necessary to be on the broom with her to teach her how to fly. But come on; would I pass up the opportunity to wrap my arms around my beautiful ginger-haired dream? No!

Thoughts of being close to Lily still preoccupy my mind as I make my way into my DADA class.

"What are you so happy about?" Potter asks.

"Just thinking about flying," I respond. Yeah, flying with your sister. Ah.

"I notice you didn't get hexed this morning," he remarks casually. Hey. What is he implying?

"Yeah, about that, what's been wrong with Lily this week? Does she have an evil twin?" Okay, I don't exactly enjoy being laughed at when I ask a perfectly rational question. Who would?

"Do they lock you away when you're at home, or have you just never spoken more than three words to a girl?" he asks in between gasps for breath.

"Well, I don't have a thousand cousins, unlike some wizards," I snap. Ha, that shut him up!

"You must get bored stiff there all by yourself," he says. The look on his face tells told me that he hasn't taken my comment as I intended. I wanted him to be put in his place, not to feel _sorry _for me! Though he actually has a point: living at Malfoy Manor has to be equivalent to being locked into a bare room with only Prof. Binns as a companion. I shrug my shoulders, not being able to think of an appropriate response to that comment.

"What do you do for fun?" he asks.

"Fun?" Why does that word sound so foreign when I say it?

"Yeah, you know, fun. Don't you have any friends?" Ouch! That stung. Of course I have friends! Let's see there's…well, no, but there's…hmmm, okay then there's…I don't have any friends.

"No." I can't help the bitter tone. I mean, who wants to be reminded that they have no friends?

"Except Lily," he says. Lily—yes, Lily is the first friend and best I have ever had.

Happily, the Professor starts the lecture before I become a blubbering idiot in front of Potter. Figure that: Professors are good for something after all.

#

Okay, I have spent all day trying to come up with a reason why I seem to be incapable of making friends, and so far, I have nothing. I mean, they should be lining up to be my friend, right?—I'm rich, I'm powerful, I'm good-looking, I'm extremely conceited! Is that why I've only ever managed to get into fights with any of the other students? That's definitely something to think about.

I walk into the Great Hall, still contemplating my ego, and I see my best friend—my only friend—sitting at the end of the table. I think that saying I hurried over to sit here beside her would be an understatement. In fact, my shin is still throbbing from whacking it against this bleeding wooden bench. I think the old witches and wizards must have been hurting for comfortable furniture.

"Hey, Scor," Lily says and moves so close to me that her leg is pressed against mine. Oookay, what's going on _here? _She blinds me with another dazzling smile before throwing a glance over her shoulder at Zabini. No, don't pay attention to _him, _I beg her silently: pay attention to me!

She moves even closer to me, if that's actually possible. Can a bloke die from too much physical contact, I wonder? Then, she wraps her arm around mine. I should be shouting for joy. Why then, do I feel as though something is not quite right with this situation? I make a lame attempt at a smile, and I notice her hurl a look of triumph in Zabini's direction. That should have flattened the bloke on the ever-so-comfortable flagstone.

"Lily!" James hisses from behind us. Where did _he _come from? "Stop it!" he whispers, giving Lily a pointed glare.

"Stop what?" she says, innocence oozing from every pore.

"You know exactly what! What you're doing is so obvious, I could tell all the way from across the Hall!" he says in a low voice, shooting glances down the table at Zabini all the while. What is their fascination with that bloke? "Don't you think you're being a little unfair to Scorpius?"

Lily looks at me with a mixture of amazement and apology almost as though she hadn't realized I was here the whole time. Then it hits me—she was trying to make Zabini jealous! I pull my arm away from her and somehow get to my unstable feet. Is that how she feels about me? That I am nothing more than a prop to get Zabini's attention? Feeling like someone has hit me with the Cruciatus Curse, I manage to make it out of the Great Hall before tearing off to the only place in the castle I know I will not see Lily—the boys' loo.

#

It's just wrong for blokes to cry. In fact, my Dad caught me at it once and told me I was a pansy—not a nice thing to hear from your Dad, but I imagine he was just trying to toughen me up. Well, Dad, you didn't try hard enough. For the first time in my life, I really thought someone actually liked me. Shows how easy it is to be fooled by a girl.

I hold my stomach, trying not to retch. This has to be worse than the time Avery gave up trying to curse me and just gut punched me instead. The door opens and I move away into the shadows, hoping whoever it is will leave quickly.

"Scor," James looks right at me, and I turn away hoping he won't see the tear tracks. "I'm sorry she did that, mate. She didn't realize it would hurt you."

"I'm fine," I choke out, noting the huskiness in my voice that is sure to betray me.

"She's really sorry…" he says and I hear him shifting from side to side. "Hey, would you like to go into Hogsmede with me tonight?" Okay that gets my attention.

"How?" I say forgetting my puffy eyes and turning to see a grin on his face.

"Meet me at the statue of Professor Snape in an hour." They say curiosity killed the cat, but I never liked those little blighters anyway.

"Sure," I shrug, thinking anything that takes my mind off my present situation will be welcome, and no, I didn't miss the fact that he had called me _mate_. Maybe I still have a friend? One can hope anyway.

#

James Potter really knows how to cheer a bloke up. I waited at the statue he told me about for half a minute before I felt something tap me on the shoulder and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Then, he took off his cloak and showed me how to tickle the statue of Prof. Snape behind the ear (which is just wrong on so many levels) to open a secret door to Hogsmede. Now here we are living it up in the Three Broomsticks, and I can't help but think it might have been worth all the gut punching just to have this moment.

"You should see Neville, I mean Professor Neville, when he wakes up in the morning," James says laughing so hard he can hardly speak. "His hair sticks up on end so bad he looks like a porcupine!"

"That's nothing; you should see Nott's Dad in the mornings. He always forgets to spell his hair on. He only has about two inches of hair around the bottom of his head." James and I fall over laughing thinking of how ridiculous the older wizards are.

"When I graduate, I'm going to play for Pride. Dad thinks I've got a good chance seeing as Wood is the captain now," James boasts.

"Well, don't expect me to root for you," I say. "I'm a Tornado fan myself." I can imagine James decked out in the Pride Quidditch robes. It could happen. Everyone knows he's a brilliant flier.

"What do you want to do?" He looks over at me expectantly. "After you graduate, I mean."

"Me?" I have to think about this a moment. Oddly, I never really thought about what I'd like to do. I just figured I'd be like Dad and live off the bazillions of galleons we have at Gringotts. "I'd like to be an auror, I guess."

"Like Dad," James says. Minus the whole 'Savior of the Wizarding World' thing, I suppose. "Are you going to forgive Lily?" he asks. Whoa. I didn't see that one coming.

"I don't imagine she'll be bothered whether I do or not," I say. I know bitterness is not attractive, but when the love of your life uses you to get another bloke's attention…

"I don't guess I can change your mind, but you should at least talk to her." Why does he have to sound so much like a big brother? Having siblings has to be tiresome.

"Yeah, I guess," I say. "Let's go back to the castle. I'm knackered." James stands up and we head back to the castle. I wonder if extreme fatigue would be a believable excuse for skiving off classes tomorrow. Probably not if I have to explain _why _I didn't get any sleep.

#

"Scor," Lily's voice echoes down the hall. I keep walking. I know it's not the nicest thing to do, but breaking my heart wasn't exactly very nice either.

"Scor! Wait!" Do I have to? I turn around and watch her make her way through the crush to my side. She holds onto my arm, panting for a second, and I have to mentally kick myself for allowing the little pleasant shivers to go through me.

"Can we go somewhere and talk?" she asks her eyes pleading with me. Better question—can I deny her anything?

"I guess," I mumble and we head out onto the grounds. Good thing it's the end of classes. She leads me to a spot beside the lake and pulls me down to sit beside her.

"I'm sorry, Scor, really I am. I shouldn't have done that. It was really stupid, but I was just so angry and embarrassed. I wanted to make that prat feel as miserable as I did, but I didn't think that I would hurt you in the process. You really are a great friend. You don't deserve to be treated like that. If there's any way I can make it up to you, please tell me. I don't want to lose your friendship," she says all this really fast, and I take a minute to go over everything. I'd love for her to be able to make it up to me, but I'm sure she wouldn't like what I have in mind. I mean, it's obvious she doesn't think of me that way. I'll only ever be her friend. Is that enough for me? I guess right now it will have to be.

"It's alright, Lily. I'm still your friend," I say, hoping I can keep the resignation out of my tone.

"Isn't there anything I can do to make it up to you?" Her eyes are so beautiful, especially when she begs like that.

"You don't have to make it up to me, Lily. I'm fine." Don't make me say it again.

"Well, I will anyway, you'll see," she says, and I can see the determination in those beautiful eyes. I hope you will, Lily. I hope you will make it up to me one day by thinking of me the same way you did Zabini. I hope…Okay, enough of the mushy stuff.

"Let's go get some snacks," I say pulling myself to my feet.

"Where?" she asks, popping up beside me.

"I know the perfect place."


	5. The Censorship

I just had that dream again. You know, the one where you're walking through the middle of the Great Hall starkers, and everyone laughs and points at you. Of course, it never caused me to wake up in a cold sweat before. The difference this time? Lily was there. The fact that she was standing there blatantly staring, rather than laughing, only gave me a little consolation. I wonder what _The Dream Oracle _would have to say about this one.

It doesn't take me long to throw my robes on and make my way down to breakfast. You can easily imagine how uncomfortable I feel walking into the Great Hall with that dream still fresh in my mind.

"Hey, Scor," Lily says as I join her at 'our end' of the table. "Why are you blushing?"

I'm not even going to relate my thoughts at this particular moment. I guess Mum is right: all boys' thoughts should be censored after they turn twelve. I wonder if heat stroke would be a good excuse for my traitorous face.

"Um, the lanterns are really hot." By the end of the year, I hope to have managed to go one day without saying something completely daft. Lily just giggles.

"We're still on for practice, right?" she gives me that lovely pleading look again, and once again I feel the heat creep into my cheeks. Stop thinking about knickers! Stop thinking about knickers!

"Of course. I'll meet you at the pitch as soon as I change my pants—I mean trousers!" I think they should install embarrassment escape routes in the Great Hall. If my face gets any hotter I may not have to lie about the heat stroke.

"Great!" she says, and I can't help but wonder how she manages to overlook all my social blunders. My roommates would be rolling on the flagstone by now. I take a look at the one closest to me. See! He must have heard. He's falling all over Pernilla, and Lily just sits there eating like guys who talk about their pants at breakfast are common-place.

She really is the best.

#

Of all the things magic has allowed me to do, I think being able to fly is my all-time favorite. The sensation of the wind whipping through your hair and whistling in your ears can't be equaled by any other experience—well at least no other experience I have had.

Standing here on the pitch, I am close to bursting with anticipation. I can't wait to discover the thrill of combining my two favorite things—flying and Lily. I watch her make her way toward me, and I shift my broom to my other hand to keep myself from staring at her. Since the dream, I have had a hard time keeping my mind off her knickers.

"So, you ready to become an expert flier?" I ask as she comes to a halt in front of me.

The corners of her mouth twitch, and then she says, "You think a lot of your skills, then?"

Is that a challenge? I can't contain a smirk I'm sure my father would be proud of.

"Why don't you climb aboard and find out?"

She smiles and I place the broom for her to mount.

I swing on behind her, and the first thing I notice as I wrap my arms around her to hold onto the broom handle is how slight she is. Hogwart's robes aren't designed to be the most flattering things in the world, but she feels good in them. I'm glad she isn't facing me to see the color flood my cheeks. I also notice how warm she is pressed against my chest. I can't help but wonder what it would be like to hold her face-to-face, to kiss her. I try to imagine it, but the tapping on the back of my hand distracts me.

"Are we flying or just sitting on the broom?" she prods.

Eager are we? I kick off hard.

I laugh as she squeals and presses herself closer to my chest. I'll have to remember the advantage of fear. I race around the goals and notice that she begins to loosen up a bit. Gradually, I fly higher above the pitch before moving into a dive. I feel her tense up, but she doesn't squeal. As we pull out, she yells in triumph.

"Like that, do you?" I ask her.

"Yes! Can we have another go?"

"My skills meet with your approval, then?"

"You have passed the test," she says, in a perfect imitation of Professor Longbottom.

"Thank you, Madam Potter."

I smile to myself and pull the broom up to thrill her with another dive.

#

I love Saturdays. So far, this Saturday has to be one of the better ones I've had. Lying on my four-poster bed staring up at the canopy above, I replay in my mind the time spent with Lily on my broom. I hardly notice my roommates, moving around the room which is why I am a bit surprised when they surround my bed.

"Is there something you wanted?" I ask, hoping it is just a misplaced sock.

The wicked glares and the wand pointed at my face tell me otherwise. I hear a whispered, _Stupefy, _and darkness surrounds me.

#

"Get his pants," someone whispers as I slowly return to consciousness. I start to open my eyes but think better of it. They could just stun me again.

"Did you tie it tight?" I hear another voice to my left, and my curiosity gets the better of me. I open my eyes a crack and see something I wish I never had. My roommates have tied me to a bed—starkers! Not just any bed, oh no, they have managed to drag me into the girls' dorm and have tied me onto Lily's bed. I can see a picture of her and her family on the side table. My entire body goes cold. Any minute now, the girls will be coming back to their room. I wish I could somehow melt into the floor. This is a nightmare come to life!

"Let's get out of here before she gets back," Avery grins maniacally at me. "Have fun, Malfoy." He closes the hangings around me.

What a situation to be in. I don't dare call for help. What would the girls say? I can't get away. I'm sure to be humiliated in front of Lily. I strain to hear any sounds besides the hasty retreat of my soon-to-be dead roommates.

This time, they have gone too far.

#

The worst torture in the world is being tied down with no way to scratch your nose. I think one of Lily's roommates must have a cat. It's also very distracting being surrounded by 'Lily smell'. What _is _that scent? It's something like berries mixed with vanilla.

My wrists are starting to hurt as well. It's my own fault, I know, but I had to try getting out of this predicament. Too bad the attempt only resulted in me rubbing my wrists raw.

After what seems like an eternity, I hear the sound of footsteps, coming down the corridor. It sounds like just one person. If it's Lily all by herself, is there a possibility she might take pity and set me free?

I hear the door open and shut and then more steps, making their way across the floor.

"Lily," I say, trying to keep my voice low in case someone else might be with her.

"Scor? What are you doing in…"

"Don't open the hangings!" I yelp. Forget low voices.

"What's wrong? Why are you in my room?" she asks, now quieter.

The humiliation continues.

"My roommates stunned me and brought me in here. I'm tied to the bed."

I hear a giggle and a few more steps. "Well, let me untie you and…"

"No!" The steps halt. "Lily, I'm…not decent."

"Come on, they couldn't have cursed you that badly. Whatever it is, I won't mind."

"No, no…I mean…I'm naked." I hate blushing. I hate lying here like an idiot tied to a bed. I really Really REALLY hate my roommates!

"You're what!" I can almost hear her blushing as well.

"They took my clothes." This is torture. "Please, can you just…throw a cloak over me or something? Just don't look!" I can feel my heart racing. Will she help me? Will she just laugh at me? Will she look? I don't think I can take it!

I hear her steps retreating and the sound of a trunk lid opening. After a few moments, the curtains part at the end of the bed. I close my eyes. I just can't stand to see her laugh at me. I feel cloth draped over my feet, and I chance a quick peek. I breathe a sigh of relief as I see her cloak over my feet and her walking backwards, covering me with it as she does so. I have never felt so grateful to anyone in my entire life.

Once she has me covered, she makes quick work of the neckties the prats used to tie me to the bed. I pull the cloak around myself and mutter a cursory, "Thanks." I just can't bring myself to look her in the eye.

"Is there anything else I can do?" she asks.

I just shake my head, trying to ignore the heat that refuses to leave my face. I manage to turn and exit the room without tripping over anything.

"Scor," she calls, and I turn to see her, standing at the door with a wide grin on her face.

"Yeah?"

"Let me know if you need any help, getting them back."

I nod again, staring at my feet sticking out of the too short cloak. Without a word, I head to my room, plotting my revenge as I go.

I think I'll have a talk with Fred and George.

#

I really have Lily's knickers to thank for my recent revenge idea. I have spent most of the last week thinking about them, so when Lily asked how the plotting was coming along I said the first thing that came to mind.

"It's knickers." Her wicked smile wasn't something I was expecting.

"That's brilliant!"

"It is?"

"Of course! Make them show up to breakfast with fancy knickers over their clothes!"

Have I ever mentioned what a genius Lily Potter is?

It didn't take much to get Fred and George in on the prank. Now we're just sitting here waiting for the knicker models to show up. Please forgive me a cruel chuckle.

"Arrrr. I wish they'd hurry up!" Lily says from beside me, and I mentally second her impatience. The hall fills slowly with breakfast stragglers. I notice Fred and George are not skipping the morning meal today. Even James managed to get out of bed early. What fun!

At last, four tousle-haired boys stumble into the Great Hall, looking as though they just rolled out of bed. I give a mental high-five to Fred for thinking of turning their clocks back so they would think they were late.

A few heads turn and laughter erupts at the Gryffindor table. It doesn't take long before the other four houses follow suit. Nott looks down at his clothes with a confused expression. I must remember to thank George for the idea of making the knickers invisible to those wearing them.

The laughter doesn't stop as they head over to sit down. I notice them asking the other Slytherins nearby what is so funny. Finally April Fralls leans over and whispers in Avery's ear. My smirk doesn't drop a notch as each of my roommates glares at me before running out of the Great Hall in their lacy knickers.

I turn to catch Lily staring at me. There's something strange about the way she's looking at me. I don't have long to think about it cause she immediately looks away.

"That was brilliant," I say. "You were right."

She looks up and smiles in a way that makes my heart beat faster.

"I'm glad I could help," she says, and turns back to her breakfast.

I can only imagine one thing making me feel better than I do right now—the knowledge that Lily Potter fancies me, even just a little.


	6. The Salesmanship

It's getting close to that time of year

It's getting close to that time of year, the time that I dread most of all—Christmas holidays. Why do they bother even allowing a holiday? It always takes me at least three weeks to get over the trauma! What could possibly be so bad about trees, presents, and good food, you ask? Include my family in the picture and there's your answer.

I can just see it now: Grandfather 'Lucifer'—um I mean, Lucius, reliving the glory days of Deatheaterdom: Father acting like he's forgotten how to sit, speak, and smile: and Mother relieving her stress by following me around the manor, trying to force me into various 18th century robes because they 'make me look like a little prince'. Ugh. Is it any wonder I spend most of my time locked in my suite?

I look at Lily, sitting in front of the common room fire, and wish I could ask her to visit. I can just imagine Father's face if I suggested such an idea. I can't help but laugh at the image.

"What's so funny?" Lily turns and asks.

"I was just thinking of what my father would say if I asked you to visit during Christmas hols."

She grins and puts down the essay she was working on.

"It couldn't possibly be any funnier than the look on my Dad's face when you show up to our house."

Wait…did she just say what I think she said?

"Oh? And when was I planning to arrive?" I wonder if she can hear my heart pounding.

"The same time we do, of course," she smiles and I notice her cheeks turn pink though her tone is light.

"Of course!" I flash a smile, hoping she doesn't catch the note of wistfulness in my voice. Could she be serious? It would be a dream come true to stay with Lily, but would her father even let me in the door?

"So, you'll come then?"

Is that a touch of anxiety in her eyes? Do I detect a note of pleading in her voice? Am I going mental?

"You really want me to?" I say, wondering if I sound as desperate to her as I do to myself.

"Yes."

What a lovely word. What a lovely girl. What a lovely shade of crimson her cheeks are turning.

"You sure your parents won't…you know…hex me or anything?"

Her laugh sends the most delightful little shivers up my spine.

"Of course not! Besides, James and Al have already sent them an owl. They just wanted me to get you to ask your parents."

There go my hopes, crashing to the flagstone floor. How could I have thought she actually came up with the idea herself? I mean, she doesn't think of me that way. Why is it so hard to get my heart to believe that?

"I'll send an owl to Father tonight," I say, barely controlling the disappointment in my voice.

Wait, Father? As if there is any question what his answer would be. Harry Potter's house is the last place on the planet he would allow me to visit, but…I don't actually _have _to ask him. I _could _just tell him I'm staying here at school for the holidays and go to the Potters instead! Malfoy, you are a genius.

#

So far, the plan has worked brilliantly. Mother sent an owl today, telling me they would miss me—_yeah, right!—_and they would send all my presents to school. I'm not too worried about those. My parents are so paranoid they always put security charms on all my gifts before they send them, so they'll be here waiting for me when I get back. I can't deny I'm a little nervous about how the Potters will react to my visit, but since James, Al, and Lily have all reassured me that their parents will be happy to have me visit, I guess I shouldn't worry so much.

Something I _do _need to think about is what I'm going to get Lily. I bought gifts for both her brothers and her parents the last Hogsmede weekend, but I still haven't found the perfect gift for my perfect match. Yes, I know, I'm just being stubborn, but six years is a long time. Plenty of time to convince her that I'm worth dating. This gift may be the decisive factor. That's why it needs to be perfect. It needs to say 'I love you' without adding any pressure. It needs to say 'I admire you' without making me look like a stalker. It needs to say 'I'll make you fall for me' without coming across as a threat.

Where can I possibly find such a gift?

_The World-wide Wizarding Wares Catalogue, _of course. Now where did I put the winter WWW? Ah, here it is.

Mother taught me a really important lesson about how to choose the perfect gift for someone. Now's the time to see if she was right.

"Hey, Lily," I say as I walk into the common room, my WWW under my arm, and lounge on the nearest leather sofa.

"Oh! You have a WWW. Is it the winter catalogue?"

"Yeah." Mother's plan seems to be working so far: Lily drops down beside me and we start to look through the catalogue.

"Oh, I've always wanted one of those," she says, pointing to a picture of an elegantly decorated box.

Part two of the 'Find Lily the Perfect Gift' plan successful.

"Which color is your favorite?"

"The blue. Sapphire is so beautiful, don't you think?"

"Yes," I say, though I'd probably say the same thing whatever color she chose.

I look back down to read the description beneath the picture.

_Magical Music Box_

_This box has been charmed to play whatever song you may be thinking about. If you would like a particular song, all you need to do is tap the box and say the name of the song aloud. Guaranteed to enchant you for a millennium._

_Price200 galleons_

Two-hundred galleons! Would Father notice if I withdrew that much from my account? Probably. Do I really care? Not much.

"Do you have one?" Lily asks, drawing me out of my contemplations.

"Me? No. Father would never get me something so…comforting. The last three Christmases I've gotten books."

"I like books."

"You wouldn't like these. They even give me nightmares, and I'm used to hearing stuff from Grandfather all the time."

"Well, you won't have to worry about that this year." She grins at me, and I think how glad I am of that very fact.

#

I'm all packed. My order to the WWW has been sent, and they guarantee it will arrive at Lily's house Christmas Eve. I'm dressed and ready to go. Now all I need to do is convince my stomach to hang on to my breakfast long enough to actually digest it.

I pick up my bag and head to the common room to meet Lily. Looks like I made her wait. Yikes! Here goes nothing.

"Don't look so terrified," she says with a smile. "They only bite on the full moon."

Is she serious? Deep breaths, Malfoy, she's teasing you. Try to loosen up. Wish I could manage more than a half-hearted chuckle. Wait. When did I start chuckling?

"Come on," she says, and she grabs the hand I'm not using to carry my bag. She pulls me along like a reluctant Pigmy Puff. Along the way, she keeps up a steady stream of family anecdotes, reassurances that they aren't that bad, and advice on how to handle the more 'colorful' relatives. I should be thrilled. Why then do I feel like I'm heading to my own trial?

"I see you managed to drag him out of the dungeons," James says with a grin as we join them in the entrance hall.

"It took some doing, but I finally managed to coax him out with the promise of Chocolate Frogs," Lily says. She turns to me and grins. I notice that she hasn't let go my hand.

"How could I say no to chocolate?" I attempt a smile while willing my hand to stay dry.

"Yeah, yeah, let's pick a carriage already before they leave without us," Al shakes his head, but I can see a grin, peeking out from the corner of his mouth.

#

I didn't really take in much of the ride to King's Cross, what with the tarantulas doing somersaults in my stomach and all. Lily kept trying to reassure me, but I think she must have realized at some point that someone had cast _stupefy _on my brain. Now here we are just stepping down off the train, and I'm wondering if I'll make it over to where Mr. and Mrs. Potter are waiting before I pass out.

Lily slips her hand into mine, shocking me back into a partial state of coherence. I don't dare look at her. I must look as pale as the Bloody Baron.

"Hey, Mum. Dad," James says. Mr. and Mrs. Potter take turns hugging their children, meaning I have to give up the hand. I can't help feeling like I shouldn't be here.

"Mum, Dad, this is Scor," Lily says, turning to me with a smile.

Now would be a really good time to learn how to disappear.

"Th-thank you f-for having me to v-visit," I say, well, more like blabber incoherently. I hope they understood that 'cause I don't think I can repeat it again.

"We're happy to have you," Mrs. Potter smiles at me, but the smile doesn't quite seem to reach her eyes.

Mr. Potter just nods. I guess it's better than hexing me into oblivion, but I sure would have liked something more along the lines of 'welcome to the family, son.' Guess that's expecting a bit much.

I trail behind them as we make our way out to their vehicle. Once again, I feel like the hippogriff in a heard of unicorns. Oh well, better than Grandfather Lucius's bedtime stories, right?

#

"So, how's your father these days, Mal-Scorpius?" Mr. Potter asks as he maneuvers the car out onto the road. This is only the second time I've ever been in one of these metal beasts. Wonder what spells they use to keep them moving? Concentrate Malfoy, Mr. Potter just asked you a question.

"He um…he's healthy, Sir."

Everyone laughs, and I start to loosen up a bit. Maybe this isn't so bad after all. I mean, they wouldn't actually curse a child for being born a Malfoy, would they?

"That's good to hear," Mr. Potter says, still chuckling.

"He spends most of his time abroad, Sir. Mother's last letter said he had just returned from a trip to Brazil."

"Brazil? That must keep him pretty busy."

I see Mr. Potter's reflection, smiling at me in the mirror.

"Yes, Sir."

"That must be hard on your mother," Mrs. Potter says.

A picture of Mother, surrounded by acres of clothing and jewelry, pops into my mind.

"She doesn't seem to mind it much, Ma'am. She's involved in Wizarding Fashion."

Mrs. Potter throws me a sympathetic look over her shoulder. She doesn't think it bothers _me, _does she? The further away I am from 'silk and satin', the better off I am! James and Al interrupt the 'feeling sorry for Scor' session to relate this term's antics to their parents. I laugh along with the others as they tell of pranks pulled and professors' punishments. I try to ignore a twinge of jealousy, attempting to interrupt my Dream Holiday.

"Scor had to write lines for saving Lily," Al says, bringing me out of my momentary stupor.

"Saving Lily? From what?" Mr. Potter asks with another glance in the mirror.

"It was nothing," I say quickly, "just some prats, trying to bring others down to their own level of stupidity."

James and Al both laugh. Lily just turns to look out the window, but I can see her cheeks are already turning red. I see Mrs. Potter give Mr. Potter a knowing smile, and I can't help but wonder what _that's _all about.

I must say, I'm glad that we are pulling up to their house at last. It's not really what I expected the 'Savior of the Wizarding World' to live in. Couldn't he find a proper castle architect? Well, I have to say it's better than 'Malfoy Manor'. I think the designers of that monstrosity of masonry thought they were supposed to be building a house of horrors instead of a place to live.

In contrast, this place looks like the gingerbread house from that muggle book Lily showed me. A group of tall red-heads troop out of the house and head to the car just as Mr. Potter opens his door. Several 'hellos' and luggage-carrying offers later, I am shuffled amongst the crowd headed inside.

Just as I trail in behind an aqua-haired bloke and a woman with a French accent, I hear a man's voice say, "Bloody…Harry! You invited Malfoy?"

Let the fun begin.


	7. The Kinship

Did you ever have the feeling that you had just stepped into a spotlight?—as though all the eyes in the world had suddenly turned your direction and you were expected to say something amazingly witty or unfathomably profound? My moment has arrived, and it seems I am fresh out of wit and profundity. Merlin!

"Ronald Weasley! Put down that firewhiskey and stop scaring the poor boy half to death!" says a woman, who can only be Rose and Hugo's mum, as she wrenches away a full glass of firewhiskey.

Everyone breathes a collective sigh of relief, my own the deepest by far. Did he take me for my father? Does he just hate Malfoys? I turn to see the aqua-haired bloke staring at me. _Hey wait! Isn't he…_

"You're Lupin, right?" I ask, remembering my mother pointing him out to me my first year as 'that strange Lupin cousin' though I think he had purple hair at the time.

"Yeah," he says, still staring.

"We're cousins, I think," I offer, hoping he won't think I'm trying to insult him.

"That's right."

Doesn't give an inch, this bloke. I'm beginning to think I shouldn't have said anything. I offer my hand as a last ditch effort and say, "I'm Scor."

"Teddy," he says while trying to break all the bones in my hand.

I struggle to keep a straight face until he releases me from the vise, and I turn away to see if anyone else would like to do me bodily harm. I'm surprised when I feel a pat on my back and hear Teddy say, "You're all right, Malfoy," before heading off in the direction of the girl with the French accent.

"Come on. I'll show you my room," Al says, and I turn to follow him up a flight of stairs.

We pass the first two doors and Al opens the last one a little hesitantly.

"It's not very tidy," he says, and I can see his cheeks turn a little pink.

I look around the room at the Quidditch posters covering the walls, the bed-sheets wadded up in a pile, shoes strewn across the floor, and clothes slung over chairs, desk, and any other available space.

"You are so lucky," I say.

I can see the skepticism in his eyes.

"I'm serious. I wish my mum would let me put up my Quidditch posters." I drop my bag on the floor and sit on the end of the bed.

"I'll bet your room is twice as big as this."

"Yeah and full of empty space. Mother insists on every room in the house having a theme. Mine is depression."

Al laughs and I start to relax a little more. After that incident with Rose's dad, I thought I would be spending the night at King's Cross. Even kipping on the pile of socks at the end of the bed would be fine as long as they don't send me home. Lily walks in without knocking and flops down on the bed beside me.

"So what do you think?" she asks.

"He thinks we're all mental and he's wondering if Uncle Ron is going to hex him, I'm sure," Al answers for me.

I just shake my head and laugh.

"You do have a big family, don't you," I say, thinking of all the people crammed into the room downstairs.

"That isn't even all of them," Al says. "Uncle George is still overseas opening the Australian branch of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Grandmum won't be here until tomorrow, and Uncle Charlie and his kids aren't flying in until Christmas Eve."

"How do you keep them all straight?"

They both just laugh.

"So what are things usually like for you at Christmas?" Lily asks.

I wonder how much I can tell her without frightening her.

"Grandfather and Father have a staring contest. Grandmother and Mother fight over the best decorations for the manor, and I try to find the book with the least amount of violence in it to while away the time in my room." I look around at Al's room. I wonder what Mother would do if I left my clothes on the floor.

"Don't you have relatives over?"

"No. Father doesn't approve of anyone related to him. That bloke, Teddy: He's my cousin and I just spoke to him for the first time today."

"Merlin! How do you put up with it?" Lily asks.

"I ignore it."

They both stare at me in silence until I begin to wish I could disappear again.

"Let's go play some Quidditch," Al says.

I'm grateful for the end of the conversation even though I can tell Lily would have liked to carry on a bit longer. That was too much of the wrong sort of attention. Now Lily mooning over me as I sweep through the skies on a broom: that's the kind of attention I want.

#

Today is the day. I couldn't sleep at all last night, and it had nothing to do with the extra firm camp bed mattress. Today is the day Lily will open my gift. I can hardly wait to see her face.

_"Oh Scor!" _she'll say. _"It's beautiful." _

Then she'll put her arms around me, and then…

"Come on, Scor! Presents!" Lily appears at the door, wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants.

Don't think about knickers. Don't think about knickers.

I roll out of the bed, feeling overdressed in my black satin pajamas, and follow her downstairs to where her family surrounds the tree.

Mr. Potter starts to hand out gifts as soon as I find a spot on the sofa. I watch as each gift makes it way to its owner. James holds up his Pride jersey and grins.

"Thanks, Scor!"

I smile and nod, impatient for Lily to open her gift. Al starts to open a long package which can only be the new broom he was blathering on about last night. Lily picks up a box that looks the right size for a Magical Music box. I hold my breath as she tears the gold and green paper away to reveal…a large box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Where is my gift? I haven't even started on the small pile of presents that have been accumulating at my elbow. I'm too anxious to see Lily's reaction. Mr. Potter passes out box after box, but none of them are the one I'm waiting to see! Where could it be?

I inch my way over on the sofa to see if the box was shoved behind the tree accidentally when I hear a bloke start singing something about wanting to hold hands.

"Oh, Scor!"

Oh, bliss! She's holding the music box and her face is brighter than the Christmas tree.

"It's wonderful!" she says.

You're wonderful.

She leans over. I brace myself for it, and then…

A knock at the door breaks the silence, and Mr. Potter slowly gets to his feet.

"That must be Ron," he says and walks off.

Everyone crowds around Lily and her Music box. James taps it and grins as it starts to play a _Cruciatus Craze _song. Nothing could ruin this perfect day.

"Um, Scor…"

I look up to see Mr. Potter, looking uncomfortable, and standing behind him—my father.

#

I think I've exhausted whatever luck I might have had. My Father is sitting across the Potter's kitchen table, attempting to kill me with his most evil glare. As if having the Potters all staring at me wasn't bad enough, now he has to 'have a talk' with me in their house with them all sitting in the living room, waiting to hear the dishes crash to the floor.

"Why?" he finally asks the one question I am not prepared to answer.

"I don't know," I try. It usually works.

"Try again," he growls though at least he doesn't raise his voice.

"I just wanted to visit."

"And you couldn't ask?"

"Would you have let me?" I see him stop and consider it. He knows I'm right. Not that it will help my situation any.

"Get your things."

I nod and make my way through the kitchen into the living room, through the statues of the Potters, staring at me wide-eyed, and up the stairs to the most brilliant room I have ever been allowed inside. It doesn't take near enough time for me to change into my slacks and shirt and stuff all the clothes I've made a point to throw on the floor into my bag. I take a vindictive pleasure in knowing they will all be even more wrinkled by the time I get home.

As I slowly make my way back down to the living room, I notice my Father has situated himself in the most comfortable chair and is looking uncomfortable. Good!

He takes one look at my clothes and throws me a disapproving look. You don't like wrinkles, Father? Good!

Mrs. Potter moves over and puts an arm around my shoulders.

"I hope you can come again soon, Scor," she says with a smile that makes it to her eyes this time. She throws a glance at Father and I see him flinch. Good!

Al and James shake my hand and thank me again for their gifts. James leans over and whispers, "If it gets too bad, send an owl. We'll bust you out of there."

I look over to see my father's raised brow. Guess he doesn't like knowing I have friends. Good!

Lily is last, and she wraps her arms around my waist, muttering something I can't quite understand, but I think it has something to do with 'best friend' and 'wonderful gift'. I pat her back and chance another glace at Father only to see the eyebrow shoot off his forehead. Doesn't like knowing I fancy a Potter either. Good!

I take a last look around and follow my Father to the door. Even with all the 'getting caught' stuff, I have to say this is the best Christmas I've ever had.

#

"…and then you go off, to the POTTERS no less, without even telling us where you were! You could have been KILLED. Someone could have KIDNAPPED you. You could have…"

It hasn't stopped since I got home. Mother has been screaming at me so long it's a wonder she can still speak. I don't know which is worse, Father refusing to speak to me at all or Mother refusing to shut up. I would have to say that the worst of it is Grandfather, sitting in the big leather chair looking like the cat that just caught a mouse. Maybe he thinks he'll get first shot at the _Cruciatus? _

I wish they would just let me go to my room. I could have a lovely time, throwing all my clothes on the floor and tacking up my posters whether Mother likes it or not!

"Are you paying attention?"

Um, isn't it obvious?

"Astoria, let him go to his room. He's heard enough," Father says, and I must say I'm a bit surprised.

I run out and up the stairs before he can change his mind. I slam the door to my room shut and lock it. Mahogany furniture, thick green curtains, and ornately depressing décor—my room.

First I wad up the bed sheets and throw them across the room. Then I start tearing clothes out of my closet at random: dress robes, school robes, shirts, slacks. I hear a knock at the door, but I ignore it. I pull open a drawer and throw its contents on the floor—pants, socks, and pajamas join the throng of material littering my room.

"Is that helping?" I turn to see my Father, looking over the mess.

"It is!" I snap, and throw one of my shoes at the wall. The black smudge stands out against the green wall. Good!

"Scorpius, stop!" he says, sounding weary.

"Why?" I say, and throw another shoe. This one hits the mahogany side table.

"Scorpius!" This time his voice cuts through my anger.

I pause.

"Don't you think you are over reacting just a bit?"

"No," I say, and turn to pick up another shoe.

Father strides over and takes the shoe, motioning to a chair. I sit, too exhausted to resist.

"They aren't like us," he starts.

"How original, Father. In what ways are they different? They're wizards. We're wizards. They're human. We're human. They live and die. We live and die. I don't see the bloody difference!"

"They are accepted. We aren't."

"Well perhaps we would be if we didn't close ourselves off like prisoners! Perhaps they would treat us differently if we treated them differently! Perhaps they would like us! They might even love us!"

Father just shakes his head. Doesn't he understand? Can't he just let me have a little happiness?—Just once?

"I don't want you associating with the Potters."

"You don't want! _You_ don't want! What about what I want! What about me? All you care about is your stupid childhood rivalry! You don't care whether I have friends or not! None of you care! Well, you can yell at me all you like, but it won't make me give up my friendship with the Potters! They're mine, and you can't take them away from me!"

My heart is racing like mad. I've never spoken back to my Father. Will he hit me? Curse me? Cast the _Cruciatus _on me?

"We'll see," he says, and strides from the room.

Uh oh. Why do I feel so nervous?


	8. The Dictatorship

I have finally discovered the reason why my parents decided to reproduce. They needed someone to torture but didn't want the headache of getting thrown into Azkaban. In the end, my father must have felt torture just wasn't causing near enough trauma, so now he's going to ruin my entire life. I guess the point could be argued that it isn't much of a life anyway, but for the very first time, I actually have friends! My father's solution to that discovery? --_ "You're going to Durmstrang."_

Yes, that's right. For the iniquitous crime of daring to be liked, I am being sent to freeze my bum off in the Arctic. No amount of shoe throwing has changed his mind, either. I don't think wanting to spend my holiday with the Potters deserves such a harsh punishment. The worst part of it is they are sending me in the middle of the year. They won't even let me finish off the term at Hogwarts. I guess Lily's influence on me is so horrendous that I can't even be allowed to bid her farewell before I'm shipped off to Glacierville.

I've spent the last two days locked in my room, trying to write Lily. What do I say?

_I'll see you in a few years. Don't forget to write! _

_Don't fall for any Hogwart's blokes while I'm away. _

_Do you think your father would transfer you to Durmstrang, too?_

Ugh. It's hopeless. I'll be stuck in the land of snow and ice surrounded by strangers while she's at Hogwarts making new friends and forgetting all about me.

The only thing I can manage to get down on paper is a pathetic, _farewell—I'll be sure to write._ Then I fall into my bed.

#

Apparently, Durmstrang students catch a ship instead of a train. I'm standing at the rail, trying my hardest not to be sick again. As I anticipated, the other students are giving me a wide berth. Of course, they might think I have dragon pox or something due to my green complexion. Wish I knew a seasickness cure.

I try to take my mind off of it by reviewing Lily's letter. Yes, I memorized it just this morning.

_Dear Scor,_

_I can't believe your parents are sending you so far away just when I was planning to ask you to be my boyfriend! Now I'll have to go crawling back to Zabini, and you know how much I hate those hard stone floors! Dad wants me to tell you that if you ever set foot in our house again he will curse you into the next century. Hope you enjoy your last week in England._

_Your true love,_

_Lily _

I wake with a start. What am I going to do? My head spins for the next moment and a half, making me feel as sick as I did in the dream. I just can't stay in this museum of nightmares!

I jump out of bed and start throwing the clothes off the nearest pile into a black leather bag. It's still dark outside; no one will be awake yet. I grab my wand and my now stuffed bag and head to the kitchens—the one place my parents never set foot in.

It's almost too easy to slip out the door, past the gardens, and through the big front gates. Just as I suspected—they expect me to just go along with them. They didn't even bother to change the protection charms.

I hold up my wand and jump out of the way just in time to miss the Knight Bus, pulling to a stop.

"'Lo there," a man says, peering out the open door of the bus. "You comin' aboard?"

"Yes."

I drag my bag and myself onto the bus, shove a handful of coins into the man's hand, and take a bed near the back.

"Where 're ya 'eaded?" The bus driver asks.

That's when I start to panic. I don't know where she lives! I mean, I know it's in England somewhere, but I wasn't really paying attention to the directions on the way there. What was the name of that place...? I see the driver start tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

"To Harry Potter's house," I say in a fit of desperation. Everyone must know where _he_ lives, right?

"A'right. To 'arry Potter's 'ouse, Bob, and step on it."

The bus shoots off so fast I feel my stomach running to catch up. I try not to watch the scenery flying by because it just makes me that more nauseous. Instead, I try to prepare my opening speech for Mr. Potter. I mean, he's bound to wonder when I show up on his doorstep in the wee hours of the morning.

Perhaps I could offer to spell the house clean or do some other menial chore? He could let me sleep in the attic for all I care, just as long as he doesn't send me back! Will James and Al stick up for me? They did say they would break me out. Maybe I could live in their closet.

My stomach jumps back into my body as the bus screeches to a stop. I hurry to the front, anxious to get onto stable ground. A screech and a crack later and I'm standing on the walk, staring at a house that does not even remotely resemble the Potters'.

#

This house looks like someplace my parents would feel at home. I look to the dump next door and the house disappears from my peripheral view. I turn again and there it is in all its ghastly glory. _Muggle repellents. _Why did the bus bring me here? Maybe the bloke on the bus thought I had said Voldemort's house. It certainly looks like it's been abandoned for twenty years or so. Of course the Potters could have repellent charms on their house. Maybe they have anti-groupie wards that make the house look awful.

I make my way up to the front door and give it my trademark rap. To my astonishment, someone in the house starts screaming at the top of their lungs! It sounds as though they are being smothered by a blanket, and before I think it through logically, I push open the door and run to the victim's rescue. I see someone thrashing wildly behind a set of curtains. Not giving my brain a chance to catch up to my body, I tear them open to reveal the most horrific painting I have ever seen.

Immediately, the old crone stops her banshee wailing and stares at me in—delight?

"At last, a pureblood has come to claim his home!" She says and gives me what I suppose amounts to a smile in the world of nightmares.

"You know me?"

"You are the son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, are you not?" She seems to consider starting up the howling again.

"Grandson," I say before she gets a good breath.

"Wonderful! I'm glad to see someone has vanquished that blood-traitor Potter boy."

"James?"

"No, dear. His son. Harold or something."

"You mean Harry?"

"Yes, that's it, Harry. Wretched common name. He profaned the very halls of this illustrious estate, but at last you have come to see it brought back to its true glory."

"You mean this is Harry Potter's house?"

"Was, dear boy. Was. Now, of course, it is yours as the next living relative to my despicable son, Sirius."

Okay, so that explains the mix-up with the Knight Bus, but what is the old crone on about me being next in line? Please tell me I'm not related to the Potters!

"You mean...I'm Harry's..."

"You are nothing to that wretch. My son bequeathed the house to that muggle lover. It should have passed to your father, Draco."

Whew! Wouldn't want to marry my cousin, now would I? Well, now what?

"I don't suppose you know where the, er, wretch is living now?" I ask the painting.

"Of course not!" she snips. "Why should I care to know the...wait one moment. Do you mean to say he still lives?" I can see the signs of a screaming fit in her oil-paint eyes. I pull the curtains back over her and sprint to the staircase. I can hear her curses echoing up the hall as I make my way through the house.

I stop at the door marked 'Sirius Black'. Thinking someone might hear the painting's screeching and come looking, I duck inside the room and crouch behind the door. Dust sparkles in the first beams of sunlight that manage to make it past the old ratty curtains. I push the door closed to block out the yells of 'muggle lover' and 'blood-traitor'. After a few minutes the old bag finally runs out of air and I can hear the creaking and groaning of the old house. I lay my bag on the floor and drop myself down beside it. _What do I do now?_ As I ponder my fate, where to go, and how to get myself out of this predicament, the lack of sleep finally catches up to me. I lay my head on the bag and drift off to sleep.

#

A loud thump startles me awake, and it takes me a moment to reorient myself. Then the screaming starts in again. That old hag must have had a powerful set of lungs on her. It takes me a moment to realize the significance of her screaming. Someone else must be in the house!

I squeeze behind an old chest-of-drawers just before the door opens.

"Scor?"

I hold my breath, not that there's any way the other person could possibly hear it over the blood-curdling screams.

"I see your bag. I know you're in here. Come on out. Your dad is worried sick."

I finally recognize the voice. It's Mr. Potter.

I squeeze back out the way I came and glare at my betraying bag. Why didn't I think to pick it up?

"How did you find me?" I ask, sliding out into the open.

"Your father spoke to the Knight Bus driver. He said a boy matching your description was dropped off at Harry Potter's house. Draco showed up at our house this morning, demanding we return you at once. After I got him to calm down enough to explain what happened, I figured out that they must have taken you here." He grins as though I should be impressed by his cleverness.

"So, you're taking me back?"

He just nods.

"Your father is outside, waiting. I convinced him to let me come in first."

"He's sending me away!" I blurt before I can stop myself. "I'm going to have to go to Durmstrang! I'll never get to see any of you again."

He just keeps holding the door open and gesturing for me to come along. Doesn't he get it?

"I'm sorry, Scor. There's really nothing I can do. He is your father."

I flash him a pleading look, but he just shakes his head.

"It won't be forever. Who knows what will happen?" he says, as though this information will reassure me.

"Four years is long enough!" I say, and notice that I sound like a spoiled child.

"They'll write you," he assures me.

I don't have to ask who he's talking about.

"You might even be able to visit."

I give him a look that clearly says, _yeah, right!_

I let out a sigh. It's my own fault. Running away probably wasn't the best idea anyway. I should have known they would find me, and even if I had made it to the Potters' house, they would have sent me back. I can't really blame Mr. Potter.

"Tell Lily I..." I what? I just can't finish it! Would anyone believe that I love her? They would just say I'm too young to love.

Mr. Potter just nods, sparing me the pain of having to complete my thought.

My bag feels heavier as I throw it over my shoulder and follow my father's childhood nemesis downstairs. I want to say more. There should be more to say. Instead, I just trudge down the hall, hardly noticing the portrait's slander as we head to the door.

_I'll go to Durmstrang. I'll put up with four years of freezing cold and loneliness, but it won't do any good, Father. It won't make me forget Lily or James or Al. It won't make me a 'good little Slytherin'._ Maybe when he realizes that, my father will give up and let me come home.


	9. The Courtship

It's funny how the dreams and wishes of childhood dwindle over time. I never would have thought when my father shipped me off to Durmstrang that it would be eight years until I would set foot in England again. At first, I stayed for the holidays just to spite Father for refusing to let me visit the Potters. After the first two years, however, I stayed because my friends were there.

Yes, without my father and the Malfoy stigma, I was able to make friends. It just made sense to me to do my career training with them, and while being an auror sounded like a great idea to a thirteen-year-old, curse breaking appealed more to my seventeen-year-old mentality. I've traveled the world, met all sorts of people, and enjoyed myself the whole time. In fact, I had no plans of setting foot in this country ever again.

It _would _take something like my mother's death to bring me back here.

I look around at the London streets. The smell of those strange muggle autos fills the air. People walk in huddles, trying to keep warm on their way to the shops. It's understandable that I would rather be here than locked up in Malfoy Manor with my dad, though both places seem alien to me. After about five minutes of listening to him blather on, I decided I needed some air. So here I am, just passing the Leaky Cauldron. I experience a bit of nostalgia and decide to step in and get a drink.

I make my way to the bar, noting that nothing has changed here in the years I've been gone. It's as though time can't touch the old chairs and tables, scrubbed bar and stools, and bottles of beverages lining the shelves.

I order a butterbeer for old time's sake, and try to contemplate my situation now. I wish I could feel something about my mother's death. Instead I'm just sitting here in the Leaky Cauldron, staring into a glass of butterbeer as though I might find something I miss about her at the bottom of it.

I look around at the empty barstools beside me and realize what this scene is missing—friends. All my friends and even a couple of ex girlfriends wait for me back in the north.

"Scor?"

I turn to see a tall dark haired man staring at me. He couldn't look more like Harry Potter if he tried.

"Al?" I say as I stand up to greet him.

"Hey, Lily," he yells over his shoulder. "Look who it is!"

My heart starts racing when he says her name—a pre-conditioned adolescent response, no doubt. I look over his shoulder to see her standing there looking back at me. My stomach starts to tingle as a smile spreads over her face. _That's Lily Potter?_

"Scor!"

She crosses the space between us, and my dream—the one I had all those years ago of her throwing herself into my arms—finally comes true. Funny how it affects me just as I imagined it would have all those years ago.

"It's been so long!" she says, and I begin to wonder why I stayed away from England.

"Too long," I say.

She takes my hand, just like she used to when she was only eleven, and pulls me to the table where she had been sitting with Al. I try to rip my eyes away from her face, but I just can't. Beautiful isn't enough to describe her. I guess every boy imagines his first love is the most beautiful creature to grace the planet, but I think in my case it might have been closer to the truth. It certainly is now, in any case. Al makes his way to the table with both their drinks and mine and slides in across from us. He smirks at me, and I can't help but wonder what he's thinking.

"So, tell me everything! How have you been? What happened at Durmstrang? You stopped writing to me. Is everything okay?"

For a moment, I just stare into her eyes. She still has the most beautiful eyes. Finally, I decide that some response is in order.

"Well, I went to school and then I trained in the curse breaker's program in Iceland."

"Were you very lonely?" she asks.

Thoughts of my first days at the strange new school float through my mind. I think I still might have the stack of 'love letters' I wrote to Lily the first three months. Lucky for me, I never embarrassed myself by posting them.

"At first, but I made some friends after a while."

A wave of guilt passes over me as I think of how our correspondence dwindled over the years. I try to think of the last time I wrote, but it's been way too long.

"How about you?" I ask, hoping to keep the topic away from my poor qualities as a pen pal.

"Oh, I made friends," she mutters, like it's a confession.

"She dated Wood's son, William, for awhile," Al adds.

A twinge of jealousy jabs me. _That could have been me—though it isn't as if I've never had a girlfriend myself. _Looking at Lily all grown up and more breathtaking that I could have dreamed she would be, I can't image how I ever could have looked at another girl.

"Are you dating anyone now?" I ask, while I play with my napkin as though the answer isn't important. I look into her eyes again, not able to stand the suspense.

Lily just shakes her head slowly, never taking her eyes off mine.

"Okay, okay, there's time for that later," Al says. I manage to handle the interruption with equanimity, considering I would like to tear his head off. "Are you going to be staying?"

"It looks like it. The funeral is tomorrow, and after that I'll have to see what I can do for Father before I can think of leaving."

They both flash me the sympathetic look

"I don't plan on leaving anytime soon," I say, pinning Lily with a pointed stare. My stomach does a little flip-flop when she smiles. _I think it's time to renew old relationships, and perhaps take them to the next level. _

"We heard about your mother," Lily whispers. "What time will the services be held?"

"Two o'clock, at the Manor."

I stare at my hands, wondering for the first time whether Father might be missing his wife.

Al stands up and motions to Lily.

"Well, we'd better get home. It's way past Lily's bedtime," Al says in a mocking voice. Lily rolls her eyes. I help her put her coat on, and pull her back when she starts to follow Al to the door.

"I'd like to see you again," I say softly.

"I'd like that," she whispers.

"Tomorrow?" I mentally cross my fingers, hoping she doesn't have plans.

"Yes," she reaches into her purse, fumbles a minute, and pulls out a business card. "My address," she says, and points to a line on the card.

I hold the card as though she just handed me a sack of galleons and watch her walk out the door. I can't help but be thrilled when she looks back at me over her shoulder just before the door closes.

#

Father has invited all the many relatives he refused to associate with for so many years to the manor for a 'pity me' party. The worst part being, he scheduled this fiasco for the exact time I planned to take Lily out. I'm beginning to wonder if the man is a more skilled legilemens than he lets on. I know if I try to skive off, he'll notice. Why is dealing with relatives more difficult than pulling dragons' teeth? I have half a mind to march up to him and tell him straight to his face that I'm taking Lily out for a night of romance which will hopefully lead to her falling desperately in love with me, and if he doesn't like it, he can just go suck a house elf.

I have to find a way to get out of this because standing Lily up is out of the question.

I pull on my black dress robes and make my way down to where everyone is already starting to gather. As I look around at all the unfamiliar faces, I wonder if anyone really cares whether my mother is gone or not. I take a seat in the front of the largest room in the manor and avoid looking at the pale face in the coffin on the raised dais.

A twinge of guilt passes through me. I shouldn't be happy right now when my mother is laid out in a coffin right in front of me. How can life just go on as though nothing at all has happened? Thoughts of the fights and fussing that my mother put me through on a daily basis wash over me like a river. Did she ever think of me after Father sent me away? Did she miss me? Did she love me? Letters and presents on Christmas and my birthday—that was the extent of the contact I had with my family while I was at Durmstrang. Shouldn't they have tried a little harder, or should I have?

The tightness in my chest increases as I listen to the drone of voices. Memories, history, eulogy; I have to wonder if they even _knew _her. The service ends and people file past me to shake my hand and offer their condolences. I wish I could feel anything at all. A shock of blue hair catches my attention, and I start when I see Teddy, followed by a familiar redhead, queue up in the line. The rest of her family trails behind her, and my heart starts racing as _she_ gets closer. _I should have sat on the other side of Father. Now they'll have to pass him first. _

"My condolences, Mr. Malfoy," I hear her say, as I accept a hug from a haggard-looking witch who claims to be my great aunt.

"Thank you," he mutters, and then I turn and choke on my amazement. Lily is hugging my dad! He looks as though he might fall over. Barring the shock, he manages to do a decent job of appearing to appreciate it. He pats her back, and when she finally releases him, he actually smiles at her. Huh. I didn't know he could do that.

Then it's my turn. It doesn't take near as much effort for me to appreciate the comfort that comes from holding her and being held. I glance at my father and his now empty arms. I think I can imagine how he must feel right now—his love is gone.

I shake Al, James, and Mr. Potter's hands, accept a hug from Mrs. Potter who manages to whisper, _"We're here if you need us,"_andthen the line ends at last and I can head out to find Lily.

"Scorpius." I've never seen my father look so sad. I think I may have to cancel my date with Lily after all.

"Yes?" Maybe I pity him more than I thought.

"You don't have to stay." He looks to the door and I follow his glance to see Lily standing there waiting. "I know I can't make you change your mind. I just don't want to see you get hurt."

This is the most astonishing thing my father has ever said to me. And it looks like it hurt him keenly to say it. I'm not sure I'm ready to feel gratitude to him for anything, but I take his words as the proverbial olive branch.

"That will only happen if I don't take this chance," I say, turning from my father and smiling at the beauty waiting for _me! _

I see in my periphery as my father nods and lowers his head. I turn to him and lay my hand on his shoulder.

"I'll be right back," I assure him, and I head to the door to break the news to Lily. I hope she will understand. My father actually needs me.

#

Staying with my father for the evening turned out to be the best possible course of action. Not only did Father appreciate it—he actually thanked me—Lily decided I was the caring and sensitive sort and dropped by the next day to pick _me _up.

So now I'm walking through Diagon Alley, trying to remember the location of that fancy Italian place my father once took Mother and me.

"What will you do once arrangements are made for your father?" Lily asks, jolting me out of my mental query.

"Well, that depends."

"On?"

"On whether you will go out with me again tomorrow," I say with a grin. My heart skips a beat when she wraps her arm through mine.

"I think you might be stuck here for awhile then," she says. She's flirting with me, and I love it. I finally remember which direction the restaurant is in, and we head down the street as the sky begins to turn pink. I start to smell tomatoes and oregano and hope Lily doesn't hear my stomach rumble. The restaurant hasn't changed. I'm beginning to wonder if anything here ever does. We step through the door and the maître d' walks up.

"Mr. Malfoy! So glad to see you again." As it must be about ten years since I've been here, I find it hard to believe the man remembers me. He must mean my father.

"Thank you, but I think you must be thinking of my father, Draco Malfoy."

"No, I remember the little boy who was scared of the flying pizza."

Lily laughs and I join in the revelry. Who wouldn't hide under the table when a doughy disk starts flying over their head? He leads us to an isolated table lit by candles. This should set the mood brilliantly.

After the waiter heads off with our order, I settle down to admiring Lily. I'm curious to see how much her personality has changed. Is she still as spunky as she was at eleven?—still as kind-hearted and brave? Does she still think of me as mere friendship material?

"What are you thinking about?" She asks with a playful smile.

"You." I return the favor. "I'm just wondering how much of the eleven-year-old Lily is left."

"Oh, I'm still just as stubborn, if that's what you mean. Mum always complains about it."

"I don't remember you being stubborn. Brutally loyal, maybe." We both laugh at the memory of Nott's bloody nose.

"You were the loyal one," she says and her face turns bright red. "Any other bloke would have stopped speaking to me for life if I had used them to make another bloke jealous."

I think of Blaise Zabini and sneaking into Hogsmeade for the first time in years. I'm surprised she even remembers that.

"I think you made up for it. I've never had a better Christmas holiday."

"Even though your dad showed up and took you home?"

"Even though." I smile and wonder for a moment what might have happened with the two of us if I had stayed.

"Dad told me about Grimauld place," she whispers. "I wish he hadn't made you go."

"He did the right thing. Getting away from Malfoy Manor was good for me."

"I agree," she smiles and I feel a familiar thrill of excitement.

A large pizza flies over to our table and lands in the middle. We eat in silence until half of the pizza has disappeared.

"I still owe you one, you know," Lily says.

I rack my brains, trying to think of what she could be referring to.

"I promised you I would make it up to you…the Zabini thing."

Oh that. "It's nothing, Lily. I told you. You've already made it up to me." I give her hand a squeeze to emphasize my point. To my surprise, she doesn't let go. I stare into her eyes as she shakes her head. "Well, I suppose I'll just have to think of another way for you to redeem yourself." My throat feels a bit dry all of a sudden.

"I have some ideas of my own." The temperature in the restaurant just increased by ten degrees. I think I may melt on the spot. If she stares at me with that seductive grin on her face much longer, I may just forget melting and go straight into evaporation.

"Are you ready to go?" I ask, my voice cracking a bit.

"Yes," she replies, her voice like silk.

"Check!" I bark at the passing waiter.


End file.
